Britannia, NY

On Good Friday Jacob took his father to the senior medical centre in Ithaca, and it's official--Mr. MacNaight has Alzheimer's. Jacob listens to the talk quietly, takes in what the doctor has to say and files it away in his memory, and spends the rest of the day reading with his hands in fists, trying not to be angry at God.

On Holy Saturday he helps to decorate the church and fasts again, mostly just wishing Mrs. Sanford hadn't given all her workers a long weekend for the holiday.

Come Easter, he goes to the service--both services, the early and the late, plays with the kids, helps with the egg hunt, cleans up afterward with the ladies in the altar guild. He goes home to check on his dad, but everything's okay, at least for the most part. Ruth talked about visiting, but she's got her daughter-in-law's family to tie her up.

At six o'clock he puts his dad to bed, and by seven he's at the bar, the only place in the whole town that isn't closed for Easter. He's never done this before, but then again he's never felt this sense of loss before. First his father, then the brother he never met--then Heliabel, then his witch-woman in the forest. After that Galahad, and he bore all those losses steadfastly, trusting in God. But he still doesn't have Galahad; he's alone in this new time with his memories of the old, and his brothers and sisters are scattered across the continent, and his dad is disappearing in pieces, like an onion that gets peeled down, one layer after another.

He nurses a beer. The combination of fluorescent signs and low lights makes his head hurt, and the only people in the bar on a day like this, in a town like this, are the people who don't have anywhere else to go.

Arthur is not the one who dreams.

Not usually at least.

Of all the people in Britannia, of all the people looking for who they were, and what they'd felt, and what they'd done... he knew all those things. The past was the only thing he felt like he had a firm grip on, these days.

Arthur knew who he was. He'd been the King of all Britain. He'd been the son of Uther, who'd united a kingdom, then failed to keep it from cracking along its faultlines. He was a man who'd loved and fought and hated and tried to rule well. He was a man who sentenced the woman he loved to burn at the stake, who'd not know what to do with the only child he ever had, who'd never seen the mind of the man he'd thought was his closest friend.

He knew that.

But tonight? It was near midnight, in the middle of winter. He was a nameless, countryless gardener with no legitimate past, who was standing in the middle of the park, staring at the cool, crisp stars. He didn't know what he needed, or what was needed of him. Even if it was nothing... knowing it would be a relief. Anything. Any action. He didn't want to be told. He wanted to know.

Instead, he was here. Frozen.

Buddy had tried to move on after he found out that the old truck was never going to run again. Not a good idea to stay in one place too long. But something kept nagging at him all the way to Rhode Island.

And then the dreams started up again.

And suddenly, against all good sense, he's back in Britannia. A little cleaner and better shaven than last time, but with the same old army jacket and duffle bag. And a copy of Tennyson's Idylls folded over and stuffed in the pocket of his jeans. And an almost manic glint in his eyes.

He's either figured it all out, or finally gone all the way off the deep end. And damn does he need a drink.

It's a cold day and there's already a sleeting rain that keeps wavering between snow and drizzle, and has been all morning. Jacob bicycles to work anyway, but on his lunchbreak, instead of going home to check on his dad, he sits out front of the diner at one of the umbrella'd tables.

Since Enfys found him he's been trying to read more T.H. White and Malory. The trouble is, reading it makes him even more lonely than usual.

Alessio hadn’t seen Arthur or Enfys since the day he learned that he (likely) wasn’t completely insane, that his memories really were memories, that something really was going to happen (maybe), and had begun to half wonder if it even happened at all. He’s more than used to extremely vivid dreams, after all. And since that day, a moment he always imagined as being one which would completely upturn his entire life, things have been completely mundane. He had written the piece on that carpenter who’d been shot which was reprinted in several local papers (only based on hospital and police records—his editor had already learned that sending Alessio out for interviews never ended in anything useful), he had finished unpacking, he had learned his way around most of the town. At first it was an effort: don’t think about it, about him, because you can’t spend your time waiting around for something to happen. Fill the time. Occupy your mind. Unpack, learn the way to the coffee shop.

Today’s perfectly thrilling goal is grocery shopping. It’s easy to forget it now. The shiny floors, the air conditioning turned on too high, the list written out in his own overly-careful hand, every workaday detail seems to remove him one more step from the things Enfys and Arthur said. The world seems too average, in the midst of the cereal aisle, for things like that to be true.

((This is basically just a starter for any kind of gathering you'd like to have at The Round Table. Don't feel the need to involve Lexi at all - in fact, I've turned off email notifications on the post, so if you do need her, just give me a nudge. Basically, it's just an open forum for anyone who might wander in and have a cuppa or a cookie or just see what the commotion is about. Thread hopping within is encouraged; it's a good way to have your char meet people they might not normally. In short, yeah, just feel free to use this thread for whatever you like. :D Have fun. :D))

( Everybody loves cake! )

The Round Table

Cafe and Fresh Baked Goods

~*~

Now Open!

Free cookies!

Arthur is out and about in Britannia, not going anywhere in particular. And though he's not looking for anyone in particular either, the list he and Enfys made is still in the forefront of his mind. He's not sure what he's recruiting people to, at this point, but awakening people... and determining who they are. That is certainly important.

And failing that, he may just enjoy the afternoon. Sure. Right.

( Ask every person if he's heard the story, and tell it loud and clear if he has not )


_{OOC: Drop-in sessions with the newly-illuminated Merlin, even if she is just a tad distracted and off-form. Get 'em while they're hot. She's anywhere you need her to be, except obviously at Of The Lake.}

After a morning of unloading and unpacking and assuring his elderly mother that no, he's quite sure he doesn't need her help lifting that giant box of books, Alessio is almost halfway moved in and deems it time for a coffee break.

As he heads down the block, he considers the fact that he's feeling fairly confident. He has a new job, he's starting fresh in a new place, he forced himself to leave behind if not all, then at least some of his books on Arthurian legend in hopes of finally moving past that ridiculous hobby, he only has a few more boxes to go when he finishes his coffee.

He has absolutely no idea where the coffee place is.

He tries backtracking, then looping around, then trying a new street all together, because he's sure he passed one when he was driving in... though Alessio doesn't exactly make an effort in daily life to seem inconspicuous, he certainly doesn't enjoy attracting undue attention, which is probably exactly what his bewildered wandering is doing.